


party tattoos

by whizzerdbrown



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, College AU, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Modern AU, Slow Burn, more tags to come eventually, past marvin/trina - Freeform, whizzer is a freshman and marvin is a junior, yeah idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-03-31 18:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whizzerdbrown/pseuds/whizzerdbrown
Summary: “Jesus Christ,” Marvin murmured, looking over the man as he stepped into the room. “What happened to you?”He was covered in marks. Bruises, they looked like. Some of them could be hickeys and Marvin would not be surprised, but the majority of them were dark and swollen the way bruises from injuries would be. Whatever happened had to have hurt.The guy grinned at him and waved it off as he dropped a bag onto the empty bed on the opposite side of the room. “Ah, don’t worry about it. They’re just party tattoos.”{ based off of the song by the same title, written by dodie clark. }





	1. new roommates

Marvin Blumenfeld considered himself to be a pretty good student, as long as you could forget the first quarter of freshman year. College had taken him by surprise then, especially with how prestigious the school was. Second quarter, though, he’d straightened himself out. Probably because he ended up with a girlfriend, Trina Bell. 

She was sweet and supportive, even if their relationship wasn’t quite perfect. Really, they just used each other for help with studying and to keep each other on task. They broke up after winter break during sophomore year, shortly before Hanukkah began that year. Neither one of them were too upset by it. Neither one of them was truly in love with the other. It was junior year now, and they managed to be friends. Things worked out better this way, anyway. 

Either way, Marvin was a good student. He studied daily, aced all of his classes, never really went to parties. His teachers loved him. He wasn’t in it to be loved by his teachers. He didn’t care one bit about the idea of being a teacher’s pet. He just wanted to get through these last few years of school so that he could graduate and get on with his life. So that he could go somewhere. 

Marvin dreamed of moving out of the rainy city of Rochester after completing college. He didn’t necessarily know where he wanted to go, but he knew that it was somewhere quieter, somewhere with less rain. Somewhere probably not in New York. He’d had his fill of this place. 

Word of the school was that they were getting a new student here soon. Marvin didn’t really listen to gossip, because he didn’t care - he didn’t have a reason to. He’d gathered, from overhearing the same information repeated over and over from person to person, that this new student would be a freshman, a male, and that he was gay. He didn’t even know how these people had acquired this information. He didn’t know how correct any of it was. 

But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be spending much time with this new kid, he told himself, so it didn’t matter. Marvin had friends, sure - Trina, her new boyfriend Mendel, and their lesbian friends, Charlotte and Cordelia. He hung out with them regularly. Well, more so Charlotte and Cordelia, nowadays, but he did see Trina and Mendel sometimes. That was just the thing, though - he already had friends, some good ones, and he didn’t need to make any new ones. Any new friends had the potential to steer him away from his work. And he was a good student, in a nice college, and he wasn’t going to allow his grades to slip over a silly person. 

Oh, how _wrong_ he was. 

The whole thing was kind of cliché, really. It started with Marvin being told through email that the new student would be coming in a week, and that he would be rooming with Marvin because it was the only acceptable room with a spot open. When the lesbians found out about it, they were happy. “It’ll be good for you, Marvin,” Cordelia told him, “you spend too much time couped up in here anyway.” And, maybe, she was right. Marvin was more worried about his studying being disrupted by this kid, this _freshman,_ who apparently decided that moving in the middle of the year was a good idea. (Which it wasn’t, Marvin thought, because it wouldn’t take too long to finish out the rest of the year.) 

Marvin spent that week making sure that all of his stuff was on his own side of the room. Making sure that there was a clear divide between the two halves of the room. He didn’t know what kind of person this guy would be - he knew little to nothing about this guy other than the rumors that flew through the school, and he tried not to listen to or follow those - but he did know that he didn’t want this guy to be all up in his business. Just some precautionary measures.

“Jesus, Marvin,” Charlotte said, looking around the dorm. It was the day before the new student was supposed to arrive. “You may as well have just put up police tape.”

Marvin was sitting at his desk, a textbook open in front of him. “I don’t want him getting into my stuff.”

The girl rolled her eyes, sitting down on the edge of Marvin’s bed. “I haven’t seen your room this clean since sophomore year. Don’t give this kid a false sense of hope.”

Marvin didn’t give a response to that. He was a good, straight-As student, but he wasn’t the _best_ at keeping his room clean. Hopefully, this kid wouldn’t really care about that. And if he did, Marvin figured, he could talk to the teachers or office staff and get himself moved from the room. Or, with this kid’s logic, he could just move to a whole new college. That would be fine with Marvin. 

The day came way quicker than Marvin had wanted it to. That could be said no matter how long it took, though, because he hadn’t wanted it to happen at all. Either way, it seemed to take less time than an actual week, and then the day was here. 

Marvin didn’t have classes that morning. The new student didn’t arrive. He was starting to feel kind of ansty, honestly, waiting for this kid to arrive. He left for his afternoon classes, and when he came back there was still no evidence of someone’s arrival. It was after midnight, while Marvin sat on his bed, reviewing his notes, that the door opened. There was a split second where Marvin forgot he was waiting for his new roommate to show up, a split second that Marvin thought his dorm was being broken into, but then it was fine. He was fine again. 

He turned to look at the door, taking in the features of the student. 

The guy was tall. Lean. Muscular, but not too much so - just enough that it looked good on him, just enough to show that he cared about the way he looked. This, though, was also evident in the way he wore his hair, carefully styled, looking perfect, and in his outfit choice. He wore a short sleeved light pink button up and a pair of form fitting dark jeans. He looked good, except for -

“Jesus Christ,” Marvin murmured, looking over the man as he stepped into the room. “What happened to you?”

He was covered in marks. Bruises, they looked like. Some of them could be hickeys and Marvin would not be surprised, but the majority of them were dark and swollen the way bruises from injuries would be. Whatever happened had to have hurt. 

The guy grinned at him and waved it off as he dropped a bag onto the empty bed on the opposite side of the room. “Ah, don’t worry about it. They’re just party tattoos.”

Marvin didn’t know what to say to that, or what to think. He wanted to press on. Marks like the ones this guy wore had to be from some kind of fight or beating. There was no way he could have just fallen. Marvin kind of wanted to know if he was a fighter, so that he could avoid pissing the guy off. “Alright,” he found himself saying, though, instead. “I’m Marvin.”

“Whizzer.” He said, sitting down on his own bed as he started unpacking things. “Whizzer Brown. Great to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Marvin stated, just because he knew that it was the correct, polite thing to say. God, he sincerely hoped that this _Whizzer_ kid wouldn’t cause too much trouble. He sincerely hoped that his ‘likewise’ response wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass here soon.


	2. new beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for mentions of dating violence / abuse

He needed to get away. He couldn’t _stand_ being here for very much longer. It was too much. It was all too much.

Whizzer Brown had been forced to grow up at ten years old. That was when his parents split, at least, and he was taken away from home by his dad. His mom didn’t even get a say, because they left at night. His father changed everything - phone numbers, license plates, vehicles, states. Even their names. See, Whizzer wasn’t _born_ ‘Whizzer.’ His last name wasn’t even ‘Brown.’ He was originally James Chazen. When his dad took him away, he told the boy to come up with a new name. “Anything you want,” he’d said, “and we’ll get it changed.” At that age, Whizzer didn’t understand. If he had known, back then, he wouldn’t have changed his name. He would have stayed James Chazen, he would have kept on living as James Chazen, so that his mother and the police could find him. But he didn’t know. So, he became Whizzer Brown.

He spend most of his childhood, with his dad, forced inside studying. The only time he was allowed outside to do anything else was when he was playing on the school's baseball team. He was the star player of his team before the move (which was where he got the name Whizzer), and quickly became the star player of the new school’s team. 

At fifteen, he got kicked out. His father caught him kissing another boy in the back of a car. A boy from his baseball team. His name was Joel Fischer, and he and Whizzer had been dating for a while leading up to that day. Joel was a quiet boy, a man of few words. Very kind, but not necessarily Whizzer’s type. Whizzer stayed with Joel and his family for a week or two - his family was just as quiet and kind as him - before managing to get into contact with his mother. Then he left.

He and Joel kept in contact through text, even when Whizzer was moved back home with his mom. Life with her was a lot nicer, happier. She was supportive of him and his sexuality. She let him hang out with friends and go out whenever he pleased, especially after he acquired his driver’s license. And then Whizzer’s relationship with Joel started to slip, because Whizzer was spending more and more time with many different guys. 

Whizzer graduated high school with an honors diploma. His time was spent on baseball, studying, and flirting around with any of the cute guys at school. High school was a wonderful time for him. Shortly after graduation, right before college, he’d ended up with his second official boyfriend. This guy was named Dennis Michaelson, and he was quite the opposite from Joel.

Whizzer and Dennis roomed together during college. In the summer before college, Dennis was fun. He was loving, he was hilarious. Whizzer loved being around him. And then Dennis found out that he and Joel were still friends - nothing more - and something changed. He was jealous. He was overprotective. It started to feel like he was living with his dad again. 

It wasn’t too bad at first. Whizzer humored Dennis - he spent most of his time with him or studying. It kept him busy, and it was fine. _It was fine,_ he kept telling himself, _one of these days, Dennis will realize that he was trustworthy and not in love with anyone else._

Then it got bad. Dennis kept checking Whizzer’s phone. He insisted on knowing which classes Whizzer had each day, who he sat next to and was friends with, who the teacher was. The whole romantic aspect of their relationship was gone. They didn’t hug. They didn’t kiss. They didn’t hold hands. They didn’t cuddle. It was only sexual. It was _all_ sexual. And then Whizzer gave up. And they fought. And they argued. It got physical. 

Whizzer left without permission often, and he came back covered in marks, smelling like sex or alcohol or both. Dennis yelled at him. He yelled back. Dennis hit him. He went to bed.

It seemed like a never ending cycle. He couldn’t do it anymore. He had to leave. So he did. 

He managed to get into a more prestigious school. It would be good for him. He could forget about his past, about Dennis, and put all of his energy into schoolwork. He was a smart kid, and he always got at least fairly good grades, but this school would definitely push him. He definitely felt that like was what he needed. A push, to be better. To become a better person. To, maybe, get in a relationship where he didn’t get hit and bruised. To stop sleeping around and getting bruised in general, really. Half of his bruises were from unknown sources at this point.

Whizzer was going to make a new start. He could start over. He could be successful. 

Except he was already off to a not too great start. He was late. _Very_ late. It was about one in the morning, and Whizzer considered staying somewhere else for the night so he didn’t wake up or freak out his roommate, but he ended up not doing that. He unlocked the door and opened it as quietly as he could - but, as it turned out, the guy was already awake anyway. 

“Jesus Christ,” were the first words out of the man’s mouth, as his blue eyes scanned Whizzer’s form. Whizzer felt oddly self-conscious, glancing down at himself before back up as the other finished his thoughts. “What happened to you?”

Oh. Right. Whizzer had a habit of forgetting the marks that littered his body. The bruises over his neck and down. Sometimes over his eyes, too - but it was fading by now, it was healing, it was hard to see unless you were up close. 

Whizzer was quick to shake it off, waving a hand dismissively as he crossed the room to the empty territory, dropping his bag down onto the bed. “Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said. He searched for something, for an excuse without having to tell the truth, and within only a split second he came up with, “They're just party tattoos.” 

The guy stared. Whizzer tried to pretend that he didn’t feel the blue eyes boring into his soul, probably trying to spot a lie. But no accusation came. “Alright. I’m Marvin.”

Marvin. An old man name. He wondered how many times Marvin had heard that. He wondered if Marvin acted like an old man. 

“Whizzer. Whizzer Brown.” He smiled, pulling out the sheets to his new bed. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” 

Something about the way he said that bothered Whizzer. Like he was saying it _just because._ Because a response like that was what you were _supposed_ to say when meeting someone. 

Like Marvin didn’t want him there. 

Whizzer got his bed put together, all of his sheets and blankets and pillows where he wanted them to be, and decided to unpack the rest later. He was tired. Exhausted. It had been a long day. 

Marvin was asleep by then, too. Or, at least, he had put his book away and turned off the lamp and laid down. He hadn’t spoken to Whizzer since pretending to be happy to meet him. In a way, it kind of reminded Whizzer of Joel. The quiet thing. Not the unfriendliness. Joel was quite possibly the nicest person that Whizzer had ever met. 

Lying in bed that night, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, Whizzer found himself missing Joel. Not necessarily the romantic aspect, but missing _him._ Missing having a friend close enough where you could talk about anything. Missing the nights that the two of them would lay together under the stars, when Joel would listen to Whizzer talk about his day and comfort him whenever it got into territory about his father. He kind of regretted leaving the Fischer household, even if it meant not being able to see his mother. 

But none of that mattered, now. He was here. In a college that was possibly too advanced for him, surrounded by people that he’d never seen once in his life. Whizzer had never felt so lonely. 

He fell into a dreamless sleep that night. And when he woke up, Marvin was gone. Classes, probably, but it made Whizzer’s loneliness feel even more official.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are joel stans first and people second (you’ll only understand this if you’ve read one of my other fics)


	3. not caring

Early morning classes were both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it was nice to be able to get up and just get the classes out of the way. On the other, it was so _early_ and he didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day. He usually went back to the dorm and studied, or hung out with Cordelia and Charlotte, but still. 

Marvin was thinking about the pros and cons of early morning classes on his way to class at six thirty in the morning, cup of coffee in one hand and laptop bag in the other. 

Classes were a breeze. He got through them all with ease, as per usual. It was mostly a lecture day. His hands kind of hurt from typing out notes, but that was to be expected. He got back to the dorm a little after noon, only to find both of the lesbians there. 

Charlotte was sitting on Marvin’s bed, her back to the door, watching her girlfriend and Whizzer. The girlfriend in question was sat on Whizzer’s bed, going through one of the boy’s bags. Whizzer was decorating his side of the room. Cordelia and Whizzer had been talking about something, her gigging and him grinning, but all conversations stopped to turn attention to Marvin when he entered the room. 

“Good afternoon,” Charlotte greeted, the first to speak again, as she turned to Marvin. “How were classes?”

“Fine,” he mumbled, coming in all the way and putting his things down. “It would be nice if you asked to come over first.”

“Whizzer invited us.” Charlotte shrugged. 

Marvin’s gaze crossed the room again, landing on Whizzer. Whizzer, who was still covered in bruises, who was now back into their chatting. Both him and Cordelia were giggling at something. 

“He knew her in high school,” Charlotte commented, answering Marvin’s questioning stare. “Delia and I were walking back from the library when he spotted us, and insisted that we come over. He’s funny.”

With a huff, he sat down next to Charlotte. “He’s weird.”

 _“You’re_ weird, Marvin.”

“I am not.”

“You are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are you guys five?” Whizzer finally cut in. He was holding one end of a rainbow flag, and Cordelia was holding the other end, snickering. They were trying to pin it to one of the walls on Whizzer’s side of the room. 

That made Charlotte laugh, but it wasn’t nearly as amusing to Marvin. “Are you?” Marvin shot back. 

Sadly, however, the response didn’t phase Whizzer one bit. No change in facial expression, except, possibly, a small upward curl of his lip. A quick response, like he wasn’t even thinking about his words. “Ah, actually, I think I’m more around seven and a half. You were close.”

The girls were laughing. _Laughing._ Marvin was pissed. If _this_ was the type of guy that he was going to be dealing with, then Whizzer probably won’t last too much longer before Marvin goes to file a complaint. What an asshole.

Marvin played games on his phone for the whole rest of the evening while the lesbians were there. Charlotte had ended up joining Whizzer and her girlfriend, and all three of them were joking around, playing, laughing. He’d put in headphones. He didn’t want to hear that shit. He couldn’t wait until they left. 

Charlotte and Cordelia left at four. They had late classes. And now Marvin was wishing that they didn’t leave at all, because he was now stuck in the room with just Whizzer, who apparently lived for social interaction. 

“What classes did you have today?” Whizzer started out with. 

“None of your business,” Marvin answered. 

“Sounds fun. Does that lead you into a business career?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think you should take it. I think you’re more suited for a nibshit course.”

“Already took it. Aced it, as you would probably guess.” Whizzer was grinning at him. 

Marvin refused to look up from his phone. “I’m sure you did.”

“But, seriously. What classes are you taking? What do you want to do?” Marvin didn’t give an answer. It was silent for ten minutes, and he started to think that Whizzer had given up. But then - “Can you at least tell me your major?”

“I’m sure that I could.”

 _“Will_ you?”

He gave in. He was tired of Whizzer’s voice already. “History.” 

“Oh. Boring. Mine’s photography.”

“You aren’t going to get a very great job.”

“Uh,” Whizzer chuckled. “Yeah, I will. I’m going to run my own business. Take family pictures. Pictures for events - like parties.”

Marvin put his phone away. “And what makes you think that people will come to you? There are plenty of photography studios around here. Nobody’s going to come to a freshly graduated photographer when there are _professionals_ all over.”

“I’m good. I know what I’m doing.” He said, glaring at Marvin. “Nobody asked you what you thought, anyway. Fuck you. Stop trying to destroy my dreams.”

And then it got silent. Whizzer got up after a few minutes and just left. 

God damn. Marvin was exhausted, and their interaction hadn’t been any longer than a half hour - if even that long. He wouldn’t be able to do this. Whizzer would need to get a different room. Where was he _going,_ anyway? It was late. Surely the kid would have at least one class tomorrow. 

But that was none of Marvin’s business. Besides, he didn’t care, anyway. He didn’t give two shits about this Whizzer Brown, this stupid freshman. 

Instead of worrying about that - about where he’d gone or what he was doing or why he’d gotten so upset and defensive anyway - Marvin changed into his pajamas, read for a few hours, and then clicked the lights off and went to bed. By the time he actually fell asleep, it was about eleven. He still hadn’t heard anything from Whizzer. 

He didn’t care, though. He didn’t care. Whizzer wasn’t his responsibility. Whatever Whizzer was doing had nothing to do with Marvin, so he didn’t care.


	4. bad habits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of sex, doesn’t go into depth

It was a habit that he needed to break. Getting upset and just leaving. Usually he’d find his way into a party or a bar, and eventually into some random guy’s bed. And that’s exactly what he’d done, too, even knowing very well that he started classes tomorrow afternoon. 

_Afternoon._ That’s what he kept telling himself. _It wasn’t until the afternoon._ He’d have plenty of time to get back and get showered and dressed before classes. It would be fine. He wouldn’t be late. He’d make a good impression. It would be _fine._

That’s all anything was, at this point. Fine. Just fine. Not great, not good, not okay. Fine. It was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets. It was getting cold outside. It was getting late. He should have cared more than he actually did. He had no problems slipping himself into a local bar. He had a fake ID, after all. (He was just a little less than a year underage.) And, besides, all he really had to do was offer a flirty smile and bat his eyelashes a few times, and he was in. 

The place was packed, especially for a weeknight. But that didn’t bother him. He was looking for someone, anyone, to talk to. Someone who could help him forget. Someone who could help him feel something else so that he could avoid feeling what he was right then. 

Because it was scary. It was scary how truly not fine (not okay, not good, not great) he was. It was scary how much he hurt, how alone he felt, how sad he was. It was scary how _scared_ he was, to even be feeling all of these emotions. What happened to that happy, worryfree, carefree kid he’d been in high school? 

“Well hello there, pretty thing.”

Whizzer turned around, allowing his lip to curl upward as he looked over the man who’d just greeted him. The man, much older than Whizzer himself, who had this predatory look in his eyes. He’d seen that look far enough times to know where this was headed. “Hey,” he greeted back. “Your place?”

“You want a drink first?”

Whizzer shook his head, stepping in closer and dragging a finger down the man’s chest. “Just you. That’s all I want.”

God. This made Whizzer feel sick. 

But the man grinned, grabbing Whizzer’s wrist just a bit too tight, dragging him out to an old ratty truck with just a bit too much force. Whizzer let his mind go blank as the man dirty talked him the whole drive. As he “told him what he was going to do to him.” He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. 

The man’s house was just as old and ratty as his truck. The bed was okay, but Whizzer wasn’t paying much attention to that. He wasn’t paying attention to the dirty nonsense and sinful noises that were being whispered or groaned into his ears. He was paying more attention to the pain, that was supposed to be pleasure. 

He didn’t realize it was over when it was. He didn’t realize it was over until sunlight was coming in through the window, and then he was painfully aware. 

Painfully aware of the bed, that really wasn’t as comfortable as he told himself it was. Painfully aware of the throbbing in his back end, his wrists, his throat. Of the warm body still pressed against him, the arm just a little too tight around his waist. Of the fact that he was going to have to get up and find his clothes and figure out where the hell he was and how to get back to the college dorms. 

It had helped him to forget the previous night. It had helped him to forget in the moment. But now, it, too, was just something weighing on his shoulders. 

With a sigh, Whizzer wriggled himself out of the guy’s grip, slipping out of the bed and picking up his clothes. 

“Leavin’ so early?”

Oh, god damn it. He woke up. 

“School,” Whizzer answered, honestly. 

“Call me.”

“Uh-huh.”

And that was the end of that. The guy had passed back out. Whizzer slid his clothes on, tied his shoes, and found his way out of the house. Luckily, the house wasn’t too far from the bar. Which, in turn, wasn’t too far from the dorms. He made it back by eight thirty. 

And, because absolutely nothing could be in favor for Whizzer Brown, Marvin was awake and in the room. 

“It’s about time you came back.” Marvin stated, a clear judging tone in his voice. 

It was all Whizzer could do not to snap. Instead, he threw on a smile and winked at him. “What, you miss me?”

He didn’t get an answer to that question. He got a new question. “Where were you?”

“Out,” Whizzer shrugged, crossing the room and changing into more comfortable clothes. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me up at ten.”

“Why should I?”

“Please?”

“Why should I?”

Honestly, Whizzer was frustrated enough that he could cry. “Never mind. I’ll just set an alarm,” he mumbled, reaching for his phone. He wasn’t in the mood to argue. He really wasn’t. 

And he almost always was in the mood to argue. 

Despite being tired and in pain and just wanting to disappear from the outside world do a few hours, Whizzer couldn’t get himself to fall asleep very easily. And, once he did, it was just plagued with _Dennis._ The asshole who turned Whizzer into such a mess to begin with. 

 

“It’s ten o’clock.” 

Marvin’s voice startled him. Whizzer’s eyes shot open and he sat up, glancing across the room to where Marvin was sitting at his desk, a book of Shakespeare held in his hand. “What?” He questioned groggily. 

“It’s ten,” Marvin repeated himself. “You told me to wake you up. And your alarm didn’t go off, so.”

“Oh,” Whizzer mumbled with a sigh, running his hands over his face. He felt better. He felt fine. He had two hours to shower and get dressed and get to class. He _needed_ those two hours. 

And the shower and clean change of clothes certainly helped his mood. He stood in front of the mirror for a moment, though. Unclothed. Hair floppy and damp. Whizzer let his fingers graze over the new marks over his neck and collarbone, before his eyes landed on the bruises on his wrists. There were some on his hips, too. 

_Party tattoos._ He scoffed at himself at the idea. Party tattoos sounded cool. Sounded fun. Everyone wanted party tattoos. 

Not these kind. 

He buttoned up his shirt and pulled on pants, put some product in his hair. Stared at himself in the mirror for a while. He looked presentable. And he still had about a half hour to spare. 

He wasn’t going to use it. 

Whizzer left the bathroom and gathered up his things for class. “See you,” he said to Marvin. 

“Classes?”

He hesitated. Was Marvin trying to initiate a conversation? A _civil_ conversation? “... Yeah?”

“Who do you have?”

“Uh-“ He had to pull up his schedule. “Jones. Richard. Michaelson.”

“Richard sucks. Other two are fine.”

What _was_ this? “O...kay. Thanks for the heads up?”

Marvin didn’t say anything else. Whizzer found himself standing there for a moment, both of them silent, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.


	5. off.

Something seemed off about Whizzer. Even Marvin, who definitely did not care at all, could tell. And he didn’t know _what_ was off, or what was wrong, but something wasn’t the same. It was like there was something behind his smile, that just wasn’t right. Something underneath his playful, teasing exterior. And Marvin felt like Whizzer accidentally let Marvin see some of the whatever it was that he was hiding, when he’d given up on arguing. He seemed stressed already.

If he was stressed now, then he had a lot of adapting to do. This school wasn’t necessarily the _easiest_ one out there. Marvin wondered what kind of school the kid came from. This school, though, was hard. It was supposed to be hard. Marvin preferred the word ‘difficult,’ but it essentially meant the same thing. Either way, this school wasn’t easy. It was a school for so-called ‘smart kids,’ or nerds, as Marvin had gotten called in middle and high school.

Charlotte came over shortly after Whizzer had left. She and Marvin had already arranged to study together. 

“How is it rooming with Whizzer Brown?” She’d questioned, sitting across from him on his bed. 

He shrugged, shuffling up the flashcards that Charlotte had handed him. He held up one to her, glancing at the word on the back. He didn’t know a good majority of these, because of their differing majors. “I don’t know. It’s only been a day.”

“Duodenum,” She said, motioning for the next card. “Was that day good or bad?”

Marvin held up the next card. “It wasn’t good or bad. I think I only saw him for, like, three hours. If that.”

“Did he start classes yesterday?” She asked. “Oh, that’s electroencephalography.”

“It’s a… what?”

She rolled her eyes. “EEG.”

“Oh. Right.” Next card. “He didn’t start classes yesterday, he just wasn’t here.”

“Midsagittal.” She wasn’t even struggling. Why did she even want help? “Where was he?”

“I don’t know. Out. Are there even any words in here that you don’t know?”

“Yeah. You just shuffled them oddly.” She took the cards back from him, flipping through them. “You didn’t bother to ask where your new, freshman roommate was going?”

“Didn’t care.”

Charlotte looked up at him. “Marvin, this is why Cordelia and I are your only friends.”

“And Trina and Mendel.”

“You hate Mendel.”

“Trina.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Marvin. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t care where he went, Char.” He grumbled. “He isn’t my kid. He’s not my responsibility. He might’ve just went to the library or something.”

“What if he decided to go get drunk or something?”

“That’s his choice.”

“Marvin. He’s a cute, young, openly gay guy. Do you realize what some people in the bars around here do to cute, young, openly gay guys? _Especially_ when they’re drunk?”

Marvin rolled his eyes. “He didn’t get drunk. He didn’t smell like alcohol when he came back.”

Charlotte shook her head at him. “Fine. Whatever. I’d encourage you to try to get to know him, to try and become his friend, but I know you won’t listen to me and that I’m just wasting my breath here.”

“Yeah. You’re wasting your breath.” He nodded. “Is there a medical term for that?”

“I mean, _apnea_ is a term for lack of breath,” She supplied, with a shrug. “Close enough.”

“You’re going to give yourself apnea by trying to convince me to make friends with him.” 

She rolled her eyes, grinning. “I’m pretty sure that apnea doesn’t work that way.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever,” she agreed. “Why are you so against making friends, Marvin? And don’t say that you ‘don’t need any’ because that’s a shit excuse. It’s never bad to make more friends.”

“I need more time to study,” he said. “Friends take up time, can’t study when I’m making friends.”

Charlotte motioned to herself. “I’m a friend, and I’m _helping_ you study.”

“No, _I’m_ helping _you_ study.”

She rolled his eyes. There he goes, stupid Marvin, always having to get the last word in. “Yeah, okay, whatever. You know what I mean.”

It was quiet for a moment. Marvin was clearly thinking. 

“Okay,” he finally said. Charlotte raised her eyebrows at him. He continued on, “Alright. I’ll talk to him. I’ll try to be his friend, or whatever.”

“Seriously?”

“Guess so.”

“Finally,” she grinned. “Now, what did you need to study?”

Oh, yeah. This was important. His own studying. Because, it seemed, his life was about to get a hell of a lot more busy - with things other than burying his nose in a textbook.


	6. hiatus? sort of?

hi everyone that’s been reading my work!!

i’m just going to apologize now, for the lack of uploads, lack of content, and so on. i’ve been going through an awful case of writer’s block, and haven’t liked anything that i’ve written for about a month now, to be honest. i feel horrible for not updating any of my fanfictions, especially when i know how many of you out there have been waiting. i just wasn’t at all happy with how any of it was turning out. i tried rewriting a few chapters multiple times, and hated everything that came out of it. 

i’m not giving up on writing, but i think i’m going to give up on the few fics i’ve been working on previously. i’m starting a new one right now, and i’m super happy with the plot and how it’s going so far. i can’t wait to share it with everyone! i’ve been working on my writing styles and i think i’ve found something, similar to my old one but more descriptive, that i like better, that i’m testing out with this new fic that i’m working on. 

to recap, i’m so sorry for not providing any new content. thank you for all of the amazing comments, reviews, likes and so on - i appreciate every single one of you. and if you’re interested, a new story should be up very soon.

:’) ❤️


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